


Christmas Lights, City of Candles

by Tipsy_Kitty



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Dubious Consent, M/M, Past Underage, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:32:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipsy_Kitty/pseuds/Tipsy_Kitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared had been taught that body slaves were to be cherished, that their companionship filled an important role in a master’s life and, by extension, society at large. He still wants to believe that’s true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Lights, City of Candles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dont_hate_me01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dont_hate_me01/gifts).



> Written for the 2013 [](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/profile)[**spn_j2_xmas**](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/) fic exchange for [](http://dont-hate-me01.livejournal.com/profile)[**dont_hate_me01**](http://dont-hate-me01.livejournal.com/). Massive thanks go to [](http://ephermeralk.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://ephermeralk.livejournal.com/)**ephermeralk** for beta'ing this for me and cheering me on when I couldn't seem to work out the ending. Thanks to the mods for hosting this challenge; fic is the bestest Christmas present! The title is from the spoken word intro to "Three Days" by Jane's Addiction. Which is totally a Christmas song, it _is_. About threesomes.

** One **

The day after Danneel’s annual Halloween Masquerade, Jensen wakes up contented—if still a little worn out from the athletic and drunken sex he and Jeff had engaged in the night before—and only slightly hungover from Danneel’s Patented Creeepy Party Punch ™. _The Extra E is for E_ , she’d kept saying, and Jensen knows she was kidding, she’s a damned DA, for God’s sake, but he and Jeff _had_ felt pretty frisky when they’d tumbled into bed the night before...

In any case, he’s in absolutely no mood to leave his warm nest of blankets to take care of the animals. He hears one of the dogs downstairs whining to be let out and Sid, the fat silver cat Jeff’s had since he was 20, paces and yowls just outside their closed bedroom door.

He pokes Jeff in the side. “Animals,” he mumbles.

“Hmmmph….” Jeff says, and promptly goes back to sleep.

He jabs harder and Jeff rolls away from him to the opposite side of their enormous, custom-made bed.

“Jeff!” he says crossly.

“Hmm?”

“It’s your turn to feed everybody.”

Jeff snuffles into his pillow. “Pay you ten bucks.”

“Cheapskate.”

“Fine. Twenty.”

Jensen rolls his eyes but gets up and goes about feeding the cat and letting out their three rambunctious dogs. When he crawls back into bed ten minutes later Jeff is sitting up against the pillows piled by the headboard, eyes closed against the bright morning sun as he scratches his bare chest thoughtfully. The diamonds of greasepaint around his eyes from last night’s Comedian costume are smudged and smeared, and he looks adorably vulnerable to Jensen.

“You know what we need?” he asks, pulling Jensen close.

“Superpowers?

“Hmm, yeah.”

“Fewer pets?”

“Hmm, that too. But I was thinking we could use a slave.”

Jensen snorts. “Right, we’re going to get our own slave just because we’re both too damn lazy to get out of bed in the morning,” he says, imagining a middle-aged woman who would scold him as she picked up his dirty clothes, much like Annie, the slave he’d grown up with in his parent’s house. “Besides, you cook better than any house slave I’ve ever met,” Jensen adds.

Jeff turns his head to catch at Jensen’s earlobe with his teeth as his hand traces the contours of Jensen’s flat stomach.

“I didn’t say _house_ slave,” Jeff murmurs, as his hand caresses Jensen’s hip on its travels south. Jensen’s eyes widen in surprise as Jeff rolls over on top of him and rubs their erections together.  “Was thinking, some cute little thing to keep our bed warm. Be so hot watching you fuck some little twink Jen, so fucking hot.”

“Wait, really?” Jensen says as he thrusts up against Jeff’s body. The images flashing behind his closed eyes—a sexy body slave waiting for them when they get home from work, dying to be spit-roasted by the two of them while dinner’s heating up…

“Oh, God,” Jensen gasps, coming unbelievably fast even for a quick early morning rub-off. Within seconds Jeff paints the space between them with his own slick come before dropping his head onto Jensen’s shoulder.

They slip back down into sleep again; a small smile playing on Jensen’s face as he imagines a sleepy, fucked-out boy curled up between them.

After that, the idea hangs in the air between them, tantalizing in its possibilities. They talk about it in sexy, dirty hypotheticals while they’re getting off, but neither of them actually broaches the subject when they’re thinking with their upstairs brains.

 

 

*  *  *

 

 

Jensen had never really imagined himself owning his own slave. Not that there was anything wrong with it—slavery was as natural as sunsets or the pull of the tide, after all—but Jensen never thought he would be responsible enough to look after another person like that. He’d spent most of his twenties travelling the globe with his Nikon strapped to his back, living hand to mouth and selling his photos wherever he could.

But now he has Jeff, and he’s settled into a steady gig taking sports shots for the _Trib_ , and they share a lovely detached brownstone filled with happy animals... maybe it _is_ time for them to get their own slave. God knows enough of them out there need good homes.

And really, it could be just the thing to spice up their sex life. They’re both such toppy bastards, control freaks at work _and_ in the bedroom. When they’d fallen in love they’d both consigned the idea of regular anal sex to the past, except for the occasional club kid they pick up.

But a third...a third who was trained to take it up the ass and love it, a third who couldn’t become a wedge between them or a lightning rod for jealousy.... Jensen’s debauched fantasies take over his imagination and begin to affect his concentration. Finally, with the holidays approaching and the alluring idea of a sex slave still firmly lodged in his brain, he calls up his old college buddy Misha, who runs an organization dedicated to rescuing and re-homing abused slaves.

 

 

*  *  *

 

 

“I don’t usually recommend that rescues be given as gifts,” Misha says as he stirs a packet of raw sugar into his coffee. “Especially for established couples such as you and Jeff, I think it’s better for both parties to be involved in the decision-making.”

They had met up at a little café near Misha’s office, so that Jensen could pick his brain before proceeding any further. He’d been afraid that once he stepped foot in the rescue center, it would be game over. That was, after all, how they’d acquired dogs number two and three.

Jensen waves his concerns away. “If anybody knows what Jeff likes, it’s me.”

“I figured that’s what you’d say, so I went ahead and brought some dossiers,” Misha says with a knowing smile. “Take a look through these and tell me what you think.”

Misha refills their coffees and then spends the next 15 minutes working away at the Sunday crossword while Jensen flips through the folders.  When he comes across the file labeled Jared about halfway through the stack, he sets the rest of them aside.

“Him.” Jensen slides the folder across the table. “I want him.”

Misha smiles. “You sure? You don’t want to look through the rest of the files?”

Jensen shakes his head. He knows what he wants, and it’s the boy with the disheveled bedhead and sleepy cat eyes. Jared’s marks from the slave training academy had been exemplary, and all his instructors had noted that Jared was eager to please and would thrive in an affectionate environment. Jensen knows Jeff and he can provide that.

“He’s been very badly treated,” Misha cautions.  “Why don’t we go down to the center and let you see him in person before we start the ball rolling.”

Jensen agrees, but he knows he’s already made up his mind. The fact that someone could abuse the sweet-faced boy in the photos is reason enough for Jensen to do anything in his power to make this adoption successful.

As they walk the five blocks to the center against a brisk fall wind, Misha fills him in on Jared’s history.

“His owner was arrested for tax evasion, and when investigators were going through the house they found Jared in a cage in the bedroom, without any food or water,” Misha says. “He’s very quiet, was trained not to speak at all.”

Jensen winces. “How do you manage that?” he wonders aloud. 

“Shock collar is our best guess. Very effective training method,” Misha says with distaste. “Or maybe a scold’s bridle.”

Jensen’s coffee and éclair set up a clamor in his stomach, and he feels sickened by how cruel people can be. But he and Jeff could do better, _be_ better, and he promises himself that if Jared wants to become a part of their household, he’ll make sure it happens.

 

 

*  *  *

 

 

Jared’s 18 when he winds up at the Center for Abused and Neglected Slaves, a place he’d been sure he’d never see from the inside. He’d been taught that body slaves were to be cherished, that their companionship filled an important role in a master’s life and, by extension, society at large. He still wants to believe that’s true.

He’d been born into slavery, had never known nor expected any other life. His parents conceived him for the purpose of saving their older children after a slave levy had been imposed against their debts, and he’d lived his entire life at the slave home until he was sixteen and purchased by Master James.

He’d been a happy child; helpful, eager to please, quick to make friends with the other slaves. When he was 12 his instructor evaluations and physical inspection indicated that he would make an excellent companion slave, and he spent four years learning how to best please all sorts of masters and mistresses. He excelled at those studies just as he’d excelled at learning to read and cook and play the piano.

So it was bewildering to Jared that he’d ended up with a master who punished him at every opportunity. He often thought that if Master James had only _told_ Jared that he enjoyed paddling Jared until he couldn’t sit, that Jared’s tears were like a strange balm to him, Jared could do that, be that. He’d been born to please, after all… but instead Master James set up impossible tasks because he enjoyed watching Jared fail, enjoyed the inevitable punishment.

The first lesson, and the hardest for a teenager as cheerful and gregarious as Jared had been, was silence, absolute and complete. Now, at the age of eighteen, Jared hasn’t spoken in almost two years, hasn’t cried out in pleasure or in pain, and makes no sound as he moves about his days. He sometimes thinks he could walk across a marble floor in tap shoes without making a sound.   

But worse than his enforced vow of silence, worse than the floggings, was the cage. It had been meant for dogs, all cold steel bars that forced him to his knees and dug into his tender flesh. He’d spent long stretches of time in the cage for various transgressions, cramped, hurting, lonely. The feeling of abandonment, of being unloved and unwanted, sometimes forced to watch while Master James took his pleasure from others, was the worst sort of torture for a well-trained companion.

Jared blinks away the unpleasant memories, reminding himself that was _before_ , before the police had come and taken Master James away, before horrified investigators found him sitting cold and miserable in the cage in a cooling pool of his own urine.

That was before and this is now and Master Misha says he’s found Jared a new home, a better home. This time Jared knows he can be everything his new masters want; he can be perfect. No matter how much it hurts.

Master Misha dresses him in shimmery black pants that cling to Jared’s butt and fall loosely to the floor. He ties a silvery blue ribbon around Jared’s neck with a wink, and tells Jared that he’s going to be adored in his new home, the best Christmas present his new masters have ever received.

“And they’re friends of mine, Jared, so I’ll come check on you to make sure you’re getting along okay,” Master Misha says. “Would you like that?” Jared smiles shyly and nods. He holds out his hands for Misha expectantly.

“I don’t have to, I know you’ll be good,” Misha says, but Jared shakes his hands again, firmly.

“You like them?”

Jared nods again, blushing, and Misha wraps the soft leather cuffs around his wrists, clips them together, and leads Jared out to the waiting car, to his new life.

 

 

** Two **

“He was supposed to be a Christmas present for Jeff!” Jensen protests when Misha calls him a week before Thanksgiving to let him know Jared would be delivered that afternoon.

“We need the beds, Jensen. You passed our background check with flying colors, and we need to get Jared into his new home.”

“But...I was going to buy him some stuff first, and—”

“And you can do all that tomorrow. I’ll even put a bow around his neck and you can tell Jeff he’s an early Christmas gift. But make sure you’re home by 5:30.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jensen runs a hand through his hair. “Thanks, man.”

He sends a quick email to his editor saying that he has to knock off early, and leaves the office humming with excitement. He can’t wait to see the look on Jeff’s face... but still, his stomach is tickling with nerves. He knows Jeff will be thrilled with Jared, but Misha’s words keep coming back to him, that both partners should be involved in choosing a companion. He hopes he did the right thing by surprising Jeff instead of consulting him.

Jensen gets home with enough time to spare for a quick shower and a change of clothes. He lingers in front of the closet long enough to become aware that he’s acting like he’s getting ready for a date, not waiting for the delivery of his new body slave. _Well, so what_ , he thinks. He wants tonight to be perfect. He dresses in a soft black sweater and the expensive jeans that make Jeff drool before heading back downstairs.

He calls a local delivery service to place an order from Jeff’s favorite steak house, and uncorks a bottle of Madiran to breathe. When he hears Jeff’s car pulling into the garage he nearly jumps out of his skin.

“You’re home early, what’s up?” Jensen asks, trying to sound casual.

“What are you doing home?” Jeff asks, looking frazzled as he tugs at his tie.

The doorbell rings at just that moment and Jensen casts a quick look at Jeff.

“I’ll get it,” they both say at once, moving towards the entryway. Then they stop and eye each other suspiciously.

“Santa has a special delivery!” Misha calls as he opens the door with the spare key. 

Jared trails in behind Misha, and Jensen has just enough time to think their new slave looks delectable before he and Jeff turn to each other.

“Merry Christmas!” they cry in unison, and then stare at each other in shock.

“Ho ho ho!” Misha says with a wicked grin.

 

*  *  *

That night, over a delicious steak dinner that Jared is too nervous to eat, his new masters make it clear that they did not agree with his previous master’s rules.

“We’d love to hear your voice, Jared,” Master Jeff says, and Master Jensen nods firmly.

“But,” Master Jensen adds “Misha told us that re-training—ah, changing expectations for re-homed slaves could be... difficult....”

Jared’s puzzled by that; surely he could learn his new masters’ rules as readily as he’d learned (suffered to learn) Master James.’ Probably Master Jensen means it would be too difficult a task for them to undertake at this time. Jared nods his understanding.

They show Jared the guest bedroom right next to their own, letting him know that he has his own space, that they’re prepared to take things slow. But Jared doesn’t want slow, he’s spent the past two years either being ignored or punished. He gives it two days, and then at three a.m. on the third night he creeps into the master suite and wriggles his way into the space between his new masters.

The guest room sees very little use after that.

 

 

** Three **

The house is a flurry of activity as an army of slaves supplied by the cleaning service prepares the house for their New Year’s Eve party. It’s a huge affair, larger every year as Jeff’s growing circle of business acquaintances turn up in droves to drink them out of house and home.

“Next year we’re staying in alone and playing Scrabble,” Jensen grouses.

“You’ll have fun, you always do,” Jeff says.

“Yeah, because I hide in the bathroom with Danni and Misha and a bottle of Macallan,” Jensen points out. “It’s not too late, you know, we can kick everybody out and relive Christmas Eve.”

Jeff looks intrigued for a moment, but then the event planner flags him down about another hors d’oeuvres crisis, and Jensen ducks out onto the back deck to sneak a cigarette while Jeff’s not paying attention.

Outside, he leans against the cold brick wall and watches as Jared romps around in the foot or so of snow that blankets their backyard, laughing his strange silent laugh as he plays with the dogs. Jared throws a stick for Joey to catch, while Marky bounds around them in circles, endlessly entertained by the high drifts. Nancy is nowhere to be seen, but since Jensen’s pretty sure she’s the smartest of all of them, she’s no doubt lounging around in front of the fireplace with the ancient cat.

Jared looks up from his game and waves at Jensen, his broad smile melting Jensen’s heart. Jensen waves back, wishing again that it would just be the three of them tonight.

 

*  *  *

 

When they’d first told Jared about the New Year’s party he’d been unhappy but determined, nodding resolutely.

He had hoped that maybe his new masters, whom he already adored, would not be like Master James in this regard but, well, if they wanted to put Jared on display or even pass him around like a party favor, he would do his level best to honor their wishes.

Master Jeff had regarded him with confusion and Jared mentally berated himself for his lousy poker face. Then a look of understanding came over Master Jeff’s face and he’d steered Jared and Master Jensen towards the dining room table for a ‘family meeting.’ His masters had been very frank with him about their expectations.

Jared was not expected to be put on display or even pass trays of champagne around; more importantly, sharing Jared was _off the table_ , Master Jeff said, _completely unacceptable_ , Master Jensen agreed. Jared could spend the evening relaxing in their upstairs den playing video games or watching the ball drop in Times Square or “writing goddamned sonnets” if that’s what he wanted, and if any of the guests bothered him he was to let them know immediately.

That phrase gave them all pause, as Jared still hadn’t made a sound since his arrival. But Jared had agreed, feeling a weight lift from his heart. He knew he could impress Master Jeff’s clients and co-workers, could satisfy the strangest desires, but he was pleased that this would not be expected.

Now, as Jared watches Joey dig furiously through the snow for the ash branch that Jared had thrown, he thinks about how happy he is in his new home. He wants to please Jeff and Jensen, wants to be pleasing to them. He opens his mouth tentatively and shapes the word ‘hello,’ but his throat produces only a dusty rattle, which causes him to wheeze. _Well_ , he thinks. _Guess I’ll have to work on that_.

He turns to the house and sees Jensen kneeling to put out his cigarette butt in the soda can that he keeps “hidden” behind an empty clay planter. Jensen straightens and wades through the snow to Jared’s side.

“People will be arriving soon, Jared, so you might want to take the mutts and disappear.”

Jared leans in for a quick kiss and then tilts his head, smacking his lips together rapidly as though he’s trying to identify a peculiar taste.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jensen says. “I told Jeff quitting would be my New Year’s Resolution, smartass.” In one quick move he scoops up a snowball with one hand while plucking Jared’s hat off with the other. Jared’s quick on his feet, but not fast enough to avoid getting a hat full of wet slush dumped on his head.

He gives Jensen his best wounded-animal look, and Jensen falters.

“Oh, man, Jared, I was just kidding,” he says, and then Jared grins and tackles him to the snowy ground. They roll around, laughing and wrestling and throwing snow at each other, until they hear the exaggerated sound of a throat being cleared. Jeff is standing on the back porch looking at them pointedly and tapping his watch. Jared jumps up and helps Jensen to his feet.

“It’s like being a camp counselor all over again,” Jeff snorts as they troop up the stairs. “If I have to keep putting up with this nonsense, you can bet someone’s panties are getting raided tonight.”

 

*  *  *

 

After Jared takes a hot shower and shoos the pets into the basement, he retires to the den upstairs. He’s lazily flipping channels when Jensen sneaks into the room to steal a kiss and bring Jared a plate laden with crab puffs and cheese-stuffed mushrooms and some kind of bacony scallop thing that makes Jared’s taste buds do the Snoopy dance. They share a glass of champagne but when Jensen snuggles up to him and starts to lie down, Jared gives him a stern look.

“Just one more kiss,” Jensen says, maneuvering Jared until he’s stretched out on the couch, Jensen’s hard body pressed against his.

“I could stay, you know,” Jensen breathes against his throat. Jared huffs softly, even though he’s dizzy with desire and wants nothing more than for Jensen to stay wrapped around him.

“Fine,” Jensen mutters. “Once more unto the breach.” He leaves reluctantly and Jared stays splayed out on the couch, one hand cupping the bulge of his jeans. He closes his eyes, tunes out the _Twilight Zone_ episode he’d landed on, and lets his thoughts drift to the past week.

Christmas had been a pretty low-key affair; Jeff’s father and step-mom were in Vail for the skiing, and Jensen had politely begged out of his own family’s “circus of madness,” as he put it. 

Just thinking of Christmas Eve sends shivers of longing through Jared, remembering how they’d traded kisses and presents in front of the 10-foot Fraser fir.  The lights had been low, the room lit only from the glow of the fireplace, the sparkling tree, and the dozens of candles on the mantelpiece.

Jared had thought he might stop breathing when he opened his final gift, a platinum collar inscribed on the inside with the words _To Jared, Yours as You Are Ours—Jeff & Jensen. _He was overcome with emotion; his masters had already lavished him with presents—new clothes, books of his very own, a handsome hand-carved chess set. He’d held the collar out to Jeff with shaking hands, and once Jeff had sealed the cool band around his throat, he had launched himself at Jensen, peppering his face with kisses, hands running up and down Jensen’s back. They’d been sitting on the floor in front of the tree and he’d literally bowled Jensen over with his enthusiasm, and even the echoing memory of his first master (“I’ll train the goddamn puppy out of you yet, boy”) didn’t slow him down.

Jensen had cradled his face in his hands and the kisses turned deeper, more insistent, and then Jeff was there too, peeling the shirt from Jared’s back, helping Jared to shimmy out of his pants while Jensen watched from below, eyes rapt.

Jared had stripped Jensen’s clothes off, layer after layer until Jensen was naked beneath him. He turned, then, straddling Jensen’s hips and reaching for the buckle on Jeff’s pants, heard Jensen’s groan of arousal when he saw that Jared had been wearing a slicked-up plug all through the evening in anticipation of this moment.

He had taken Jeff into his mouth while Jensen worked the plug loose, had let Jensen guide him down until he was seated on Jensen’s cock. They’d fucked slowly, Jared rocking his hips back and forth as his tongue danced around the head Jeff’s dick. He felt Jensen’s hands trailing softly down his sides and over the curve of his ass, Jeff’s fingers riffling through his hair. He reached his right hand back and laced his fingers through Jensen’s, his left searching for Jeff’s. They held hands as they rocked together in a complicated clockwork rhythm, and when Jared came, his whole body felt lit from within, not just with pleasure but with love.

Jared isn’t aware when he slips from sexy daydreams to actual sleep. While Roddy McDowell is encountering Martians on the television, Jared rolls onto his stomach and snores softly, the soft sounds of the old TV program acting like a lullaby. He never hears the quiet snick of the door opening behind him.

 

*  *  *

Jensen wanders through the house, nodding and smiling at people he’s pretty sure he never met, before ducking into the kitchen to make Jared another plate of food.

Danneel’s sitting on the countertop, looking radiant in a sparkling green dress, doubled over laughing as Misha tells her how many times Jeff and Jensen almost ran into each other when they were negotiating the adoption of the same slave.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jensen grumbles, feigning irritation. “Keep that up and I’m taking away the good stuff. Pretty sure there’s some Old Crow around here with both of your names on it.”

Danneel grabs the bottle of scotch and clutches it to her chest. “Back off, Ackles,” she says. “These parties get weirder every year. If you cut me off I’ll stop coming.”

Jensen can’t blame her. As Jeff’s small sports agency had grown into a power to be reckoned with, their New Year's fêtes had changed from a small gathering of friends to a place to see and be seen in certain circles. He’s going to seriously campaign for them to call the whole thing off next year, even if they have to leave town to do it.

“How’s Jared getting along?” Misha asks, and then he and Danneel start laughing again when Jensen’s expression turns lovesick and dopey.

“Wanna go say hi? I was going to take him some more food. Maybe we can hide upstairs, have a Guitar Hero tourney.”

“Oh, it’s on,” Danneel says, sliding off the counter. “Prepare to be schooled, boys.”

 

*  *  *

 

Jared startles awake when he feels a knee press painfully into his spine as a hand yanks at the back of his collar. He gasps, struggling to breathe, confused about which of his masters has suddenly become so violent with him.

_Too much to drink?_ He wonders, knowing that alcohol can sometimes turn nice men into rough beasts. When his old master drank...

Jared’s body goes rigid. When Master James drank, he acted just like this.

Jared twists his head around, feels the world tilt on its side like a carnival ride.

“Hello, boy,” Master James says, his face contorted around a crazy smile. “Ready to come home?”

Jared tries to throw him off, shakes his head back and forth rapidly. He was _off the table_ , this was _unacceptable_ , his new masters didn’t want to share him and he couldn’t let this happen.

Jared flips onto his back and brings up his knees, trying to dislodge Master James, but he’s still disoriented and it takes all of a second for Master James to lock his wrists together and haul him to his feet.

“Imagine my surprise when I got home from the arraignment to find you gone,” Master James says as he shoves Jared hard against the plaster wall. “To learn that they were adding slave abuse charges to all the other trumped up allegations. Slave abuse!” He laughs an ugly laugh. “I fed you and clothed you—well, sometimes—and I paid a goddamn fortune for you. This is how you repay me?” His voice rises steadily but he’s not loud enough, not nearly, to be heard over the music and conversation happening one floor below. Jared shakes his head again.

“If you tell me no one more time, little boy, it’ll be the last thing you do.”

Jared slithers out of his grasp and tries to run for the door but Master James grasps his sweater and Jared overbalances, falls heavily to the floor, and then Master James is on top of him again.

“You’re going in the kennel until you’re an old man, you worthless piece of shit,” Master says, one of his knees digging painfully into Jared’s rib. Jared shakes his head wildly, bucking against the weight on top of him, thinking _no no, not yours anymore, NOT YOURS._

He opens his mouth and draws in a deep breath, filling his lungs, feeling the power swell within them, and then he begins to scream.

“Jensen! Jeff! JENSEN!”

Master James smacks him hard across the face. “Shut up, you worthless little shit,” he snarls, but Jared doesn’t, doesn’t think he can.

“JEN-SENNNNN!”

And then Jensen’s there, standing open-mouthed in the doorway. As Jared watches, a plate of canapés falls from his grasp, shatters against the hardwood floor.

He sees Jensen but his brain and his mouth aren’t communicating and he keeps shouting Jensen’s name, even as Jensen steps over broken crystal and tiny bites of food, even as Jensen, face twisted with fury, hauls Master James off of him and punches him in the face, breaking Master James’ nose with a resounding, satisfying crack. He keeps screaming until Jeff is there, rocking him in his arms, until Jensen kneels down beside them, until he’s wrapped tight and safe in their arms.

 

 

**Epilogue**

The morning after Valentine’s Day, Jensen wakes to the sound of Sid pacing around outside their bedroom door, the dogs whining at the back door. He’s way too content to get out of bed though. Jared had outdone himself the night before, preparing them a gourmet dinner with the same care that he’d prepared his own body for their pleasure. And oh, what pleasure...

“Your turn," Jeff mumbles into the pillow as he pokes Jared in the ribs. Jared sighs and snuffles and rolls over.

“Uh-uh,” Jared says, his voice throaty from crying out with ecstasy over and over the night before. “Jensen’s turn.”

Jensen rolls his eyes but gets out of bed, moving quickly across the cold floor to retrieve his slippers before heading downstairs to feed everyone and let the dogs out.

When he slips back into bed ten minutes later, Jeff is absently rubbing his hand over Jared’s bare chest, and as soon as he’s snuggled in Jared throws a leg over him and draws him close.

“Know what we need?” Jeff asks sleepily.

Jensen smiles. “Nothing.”

“Nothing,” Jeff agrees, as they begin moving their bodies together to wake up Jared.


End file.
